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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Delicate Sound of Thunder

Work work work. Hint to all those who freelance, ask for a good price up front. I've found that the most egregious use of changes and revisions come when the price is too low. For the freelance work I think I'm really close to minimum wage now with the edits. Wasn't to far ahead of it to begin with.

Last night I did get some words out. I went through "A History of Lightning" and firmed up the copy. I connected a few pieces and amplified the language. Went on a furious hunt for "was", routing it out from deep in paragraphs and rewriting the sentences to make sure it would never come back in.

I think I have two more transitions to complete and it'll be at draft v1.1. I think my going through the earlier copy constituted a rewrite of what I had. Currently it's 3463 words. I have a feeling well end up in the 4500 word range.

Went to be very late last night, and couldn't sleep in too long this morning. So I'm back at it. Hope your Sunday is going to be productive too.

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